The Day After Christmas
by BurningExistence
Summary: It's the day after Christmas and Emma has a gift for Regina. She was too afraid to give it to her the day before, but when Regina creates a photo album for Henry, and puts pictures of Emma in it, it may just change Emma's mind. I don't own anything, it's just for fun. Let me know what you think, if you'd like. I take requests as well.


**Authors note: I don't own anything, I just write these for fun. You are more than welcome to follow my Tumblr at BurningExistence. Take care!**

The Day after Christmas

Emma stood on the edge of the snow-covered street, wrapping her red scarf tightly around her neck as she looked both ways for cars. Not that there was a point, the streets were deserted. Everyone was either still asleep, hung-over from Christmas festivities and nursing a headache, or back at Granny's where she had come from herself, sipping a hot chocolate or showing off their gifts. Henry had barely just been showing her a book Ruby had jokingly given him for Christmas titled, _Peter Pan and Wendy, _which Henry found pretty funny as he read about a boy dressed in "autumn leaves and cobwebs". He had also shown Emma another gift, which was a photo album, full of the memories that were being created in Storybrooke.

There were pictures of Henry playing on the swings, of Henry clutching a ragged teddy bear while watching cartoons, Henry building a birdhouse with Mrs. Blanchard, Henry clutching a big brown book to his chest, Henry playing swords with Charming, and Emma was at the end of the album as well. There was a picture of Emma walking Henry to school, of Henry hugging Emma in the park, of Henry sitting in a booth at Granny's, covered in whipped cream after Emma had flicked some at him from her hot chocolate. Regina had given him this album for Christmas. Regina, the woman Emma was on her way to see.

As she hurried down the sidewalk towards the former mayor's mansion, she didn't really understand why she felt so nervous. She was only giving her a carton of eggnog. Emma loved eggnog, and figured she would buy a dozen or so cartons to give her friends for Christmas. She sucked at doing anything in the realm of artistic or fancy, so she had also purchased a bag of red bows and stuck one on top of each carton. She bought one for Regina as well, but couldn't bring herself to give it to her. She had even dropped Henry off last night so that he could spend Christmas evening with Regina, and the drink remained in the back seat. But maybe it was the photo album that changed her mind, that made her want to walk in bone-chilling weather to deliver a carton of eggnog. Because, after all, Regina had taken the time to include Emma in a book of memories for the son they shared.

As she knocked on the door, Emma took three steps back and didn't realize she was holding her breath until her lungs began to hurt. Her breath came out in a sudden huff of visible cold as the door opened. Dressed in skinny jeans and a red sweater, Regina stood in the doorway, eyebrows immediately raising.

"Miss Swan?"

"Uhh… Hi Regina…" Emma held the carton out in front of her, staring at the red bow and trying not to notice how much it matched Regina's sweater.

"I… well I… umm… I wanted—"

Regina shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and her face began to turn from surprised to confused. "Yes, dear?"

Emma took a deep breath and tried again. "I just wanted to bring you a Christmas gift. It's eggnog. It's pretty good, especially mixed with rum. Which, you don't do rum, I know, but, anyways…" She handed a puzzled Regina the carton and started to back down the stairs.

"Everyone is gathered at Granny's right now, and we'd love it if you came and joined us. So, yeah, well, I hope—"

"I'd love to," Regina interrupted. "Just let me grab my coat and I can walk back with you, if you don't mind?"

"Of course not, please."

As Regina went inside to grab her coat and scarf, and to take the eggnog to the fridge, she turned back around to face the woman on her doorstep.

"Oh, and Emma, thank you."


End file.
